


McHanzo Tumblr Prompts & Drabbles

by robocryptid



Series: Tumblr Prompts and Drabbles [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drabble Collection, Drinking Games, Fluff, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Humor, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Overwatch - Freeform, Pining, Sick Character, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13882629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robocryptid/pseuds/robocryptid
Summary: A collection of short McHanzo (and occasional genfic) drabbles, ficlets and prompt answers imported from my Tumblr (robo-cryptid). Mostly G to Teen ratings.8. McCree keeps to himself9. Thunderstorms + Lullabies10. Hanzo playing Tekken11. Strip Poker12. "Don't make me take this shot"13. [NSFW/M] Love is not biology (an ABO drabble)14. "I couldn't let them take you"15. McCree in Hanzo's lap16. A hoarse whisper: "kiss me"17. Exhausted parents kiss





	1. Coffee Shop AU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [umbrellacam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbrellacam/gifts), [Papallion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papallion/gifts), [Bluandorange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluandorange/gifts), [Freebooter4Ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freebooter4Ever/gifts), [immawriteyouthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/immawriteyouthings/gifts), [aeriiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriiin/gifts), [youraveragejoke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youraveragejoke/gifts), [mataglap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mataglap/gifts), [WereKem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WereKem/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick, fluffy coffee shop AU featuring McHanzo, Sombra and Genji.

Hanzo didn’t know where, exactly, his life had gone wrong. He’d had a  _plan_. That plan had not involved an unpaid internship on top of a paying job serving coffee. He didn’t hate the job, found some of its rhythms soothing, and he supposed there were worse things he could smell like after work than coffee beans. But still, it hadn’t been the plan. 

It was fine. He’d be fine. He was young still, not  _that_  long out of school, and he and Genji had seen plentyof their friends go through the same. Besides, some days in the shop were better than others. Sombra – he didn’t believe for a moment this was her real name, but it’s what she’d put on the nametag – strolled in from outside, pulling her apron on. She looked right at him as she rounded the counter. “Don’t be weird when my brother gets here,” she said, and Hanzo had no idea what that meant.

“I was unaware you  _had_  a brother,” Hanzo said, mystified. Sombra was funny, mischievous in a way that let her get along splendidly with Genji, and bizarrely secretive about even the smallest things.

“I do. He’s visiting. Don’t be weird.” 

“I am never weird.” Sombra laughed at that. She didn’t believe him, and he had no idea what she meant. 

A few customers arrived, and they took turns taking orders. Hanzo eyed each suspiciously, trying to figure out if any were this mysterious brother. But most were regulars, and Sombra treated none of them as if she knew them. He watched one, a twenty-something man with brown skin like hers, but he was quite clearly attempting to flirt with her. She rebuffed him as she always did customers: with a joke and a little wave of her fingers, dismissive. 

Then three things happened that were probably going to ruin at least his day, if not his whole week. First: Sombra was called to the back to speak with their manager. Second: Genji walked in, holding two cups of boba tea from the store next door. Third: a man walked in behind him, with the kind of plaid shirt and facial hair that said either  _hipster_ or  _redneck_ , and Hanzo was faced with the minor confusion of being attracted to someone who was not at all his type.

Genji bounced right up to the counter. “No outside food or drink,” Hanzo said.

“Rude! I brought these for you and Sombra!”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like the bubbles.” 

“That’s a shame. Guess I’ll have to drink yours.” 

Hanzo sighed. “Are you going to order anything?” 

“ _Ob_ viously.” Genji punctuated it by slurping noisily on his drink.

“Are you going to  _pay_ this time?” 

Genji gasped. “From my own flesh and blood?” Genji rummaged through a pocket. “Can you spot me, like, fifty cents?”

The stranger laughed, then. “You know what? I gotcha covered,” he said, in a low, drawling voice that absolutely did not  _do things_  to Hanzo. “Go ‘head and order. I mean it.” 

Genji, never one to deny a freebie, beamed and ordered the most elaborate thing he could think of. Hanzo glared at them both now. “And you?” 

“Hm,” he said. He looked at  _Genji_. “Seems I’m in a bit of a pickle. Think you could return a favor? I need you to place my order.”

Genji was clearly intrigued, and he took the man’s outstretched phone, then he cackled, looking right at Hanzo. He slapped the phone down in front of Hanzo, turned so he could read a series of text messages from someone named Olivia. The stranger moved as if to protest, but Hanzo snatched it up quickly.

> _Are you on your way yet? ETA?_  
_> Jesseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_  
_ >Gotta go in back. If you get here before I’m back_  
_ >Pay no attention to the hottie behind the counter._  
_ >NONE. NO TALKING._  
_ >Coworkers are OFF LIMITS_

The string of texts was followed by a series of skull emojis. Hanzo snorted, and he set the phone back on the counter. 

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to bend the rules so much, you may as well break them. What do you want?”

The man – Jesse, from the texts – leaned onto Hanzo’s counter on his elbows. “I s’pose there’s some sense in that,” he said, and he gave Hanzo a slow smile. “I’ll take a black coffee, biggest you got, and a phone number if you got one of those, too.”

“Does that ever actually work?” Hanzo asked, and Genji slurped loudly at his drink.

“I dunno, never tried it before. Did it work this time?” He was still smiling. 

Before Hanzo could answer, Sombra shouted, “Jesse!” Hanzo snorted and turned away, set on making their coffees. Still, he heard Sombra lean in close and hiss at her brother, “Do you  _ever_  listen?” 

Hanzo set down two black coffees – like hell was he going to make Genji’s monstrosity of a drink – and he rung them up, silently, while Sombra bickered with Jesse. 

Genji snatched a drink, then he eyed it. “I think this one’s yours,” he said to Jesse, who traded with him and went to sit down, pulled a laptop from his bag. 

“I told you not to be weird,” Sombra snipped at Hanzo.

“I did nothing at all,” he said. He felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket, and he shooed Sombra to go deal with the next customer while he checked it. It was a message from an unknown number. He smirked at it.

> _thank you kindly ;)_


	2. Post-Mission UST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McHanzo prompt from [umbrellacam](https://umbrellacam.tumblr.com):
> 
>  
> 
> _McHanzo - "If I'd minded my own business, you'd be *dead*!"_

Hanzo stormed off the dropship ahead of him, in the kind of snit they’d all learned meant to keep far, far away. Those lessons had never quite taken for Jesse, though. He loped along to catch up with him, and Hanzo sped up a little. He sped up, too, until they were both moving at the sort of speed that said they were too dignified to admit they were jogging.

Hanzo rounded a corner, and Jesse followed after, jerking to a halt with Hanzo’s nose pointed directly at his chin. “ _What_ are you  _doing_?”

“Tryin’ to make sure you’re doin’ alright,” Jesse said, trying not to wheeze. He hadn’t really been up for more cardio after a mission.

“Mind your own business.”

“If I’d minded my own business before, you’d be  _dead,”_ Jesse snapped. 

Hanzo sniffed, clearly unimpressed with his anger. “You risked yourself needlessly. I was  _fine_.” 

“You kiddin’ me? Ain’t ever heard anybody describe ‘fallin’ off a crumblin’ building’ as  _fine_  before.” 

“I had it under control.”

“A controlled  _fall_. You would’ve landed on your back.” Jesse had caught him like that, right in his arms, then buckled under his weight and velocity. Even now, Hanzo’s face flushed, and he glared at some point just over Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse wondered if he really would rather have died than wind up in Jesse’s arms like that. He tried not to let it sting. “Heh. You could try a ‘thank you’,” he suggested.

“I will not thank you for risking yourself for me. It was stupid.” 

Jesse puffed out his cheeks, breathed out. “Alright. I guess I’m stupid, then, ‘cause I’m not gonna sit by and let you die.” He watched Hanzo clench his hand into a fist. “You really that mad about it?”

Hanzo’s fist curled tighter, and his jaw set stubbornly. But he seemed to come to some kind of decision. His eyes flicked up to Jesse’s face. “Your life is worth more than mine. To the team.” 

Jesse swallowed. “Is that… you think?” He felt himself go red. It was a dumb response.

Hanzo’s nose wrinkled. It was almost cute, though Jesse thought he might die if he ever said that out loud. “And to me.” 

Hanzo reached out, a hand wrapped up in his serape, and Jesse thought again that he might die, this time because he couldn’t breathe. And then Hanzo just… patted his shoulder and walked stiffly away.


	3. Pranksters D.Va & Junkrat (Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fun gen prompt from [papallion](https://papallion.tumblr.com):
> 
> _D.Va and Junkrat have decisively different ideas of what an acceptable prank is._

Hana was  _definitely_ going to hear about this later. Listen, it wasn’t her fault. She was bored, nobody was around, and the weird new junker was just there. She’d thought he looked kind of  _smelly_ , but it turned out he was just sooty. He smelled like fire, not anything too gross. 

Anyway, he was kind of funny. He suggested a prank for some of the uptight agents, and she thought he meant, you know, the usual. Color in the shower heads. Transparent film on the toilet seats. Moving every item in the kitchen four centimeters to the left.  _Normal pranks_. The kind she’d done with Genji or Lúcio loads of times.

She showed up to Torbjörn’s shop with permanent markers, ready to draw cute faces on all the turrets under repair, and Jamie showed up with nothing at all. It should have been the first clue. It wasn’t until she saw him gathering supplies that she realized he was building a  _bomb_. 

“Whoa, no way, this is a  _prank_.” 

“Right, and what better prank?” He giggled his wild giggle. 

She realized she was in over her head, and she discreetly tapped out a message on her comm. Torbjörn and Morrison alike showed up to escort Jamie away, put him in “time out,” they called it.

* * *

She was in the rec room, where she felt reasonably safe. McCree and Hanzo were there, being  _sort of_ gross and  _sort of_ cute pretending they weren’t cuddling. Some of the others were playing cards nearby. She was engrossed in her game, didn’t even notice Jamie until it was too late. She heard the giggle, she heard a strange hiss, and she heard the explosion. None of it really prepared her to be covered, wet and dripping, in shaving cream, deployed from the space below the television console.

She squealed, flung herself around, and there was Jamie, looking far too serious. “And that,” he said with a self-important look on his face, “is what I do to rats.”


	4. Sleep-Talking Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From [bluandorange](https://bluandorange.tumblr.com):
> 
> _mchanzo prompt; "you said something in your sleep and I can't stop thinking about it."_
> 
> Tags: Fluff, Marriage Proposal

Hanzo had several expectations for a good boyfriend, and Jesse generally fulfilled these. He was, among other things and in no particular order, considerate, great in bed, a passable cook, and attentive to an occasionally overwhelming degree. He was, perhaps, Hanzo’s  _ideal_ boyfriend, which was the kind of thought he hadn’t expected to have the luxury of thinking ever again.

Hanzo expected most of Jesse’s flaws, too. They had been friends before this, teammates before that; he knew Jesse’s habits and all the minor irritations they could cause before he got into this. What he did not expect, though, was the  _sleep talking_. 

It was usually only a mumble, maybe something resembling a word here or there. Sometimes there were snatches of phrase:  _eagles stuff the plank_  was Hanzo’s favorite, if only because neither he nor Jesse had a clue what it meant. But sometimes, Hanzo was presented with entire sentences to mull over, spoken in that weird mumble. 

Tonight he awoke to Jesse  _insisting,_ “You’re gettin’ it  _wrong_.” 

“Getting what wrong?” he prompted. Sometimes it worked. 

It worked this time. “The  _flowers_ ,” Jesse said, followed by a mumbled word that might have been an insult.

“The flowers.”

“And the soups.”

“And the soups,” Hanzo repeated. Jesse mumbled but said nothing else coherent. Hanzo wrote the exchange down and tried to go back to sleep, but his mind continued to trip over  _the flowers and the soups_. 

He tried to bring it up in the morning, and Jesse only stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “That sounds like the usual nonsense,” he said, voice very strange. Hanzo had to agree, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Jesse talked in his sleep more, but nothing nearly so compelling as  _the flowers and the soups_. If pressed, Hanzo couldn’t explain  _why_ it stuck with him; it may have been Jesse’s reaction.

He figured it out a week later over dinner. Jesse set something on the table between them and stared at him like he  _hadn’t_ since the first time he’d expressed an interest in Hanzo. Hanzo stared back. Jesse took an unhealthily sized gulp of his beer, then said, “Suits.”

“What?”

“It was, uh. Flowers. And suits. Probably. I wasn’t awake, but I know what I was dreamin’ about.”

“What?” Hanzo asked again.

Jesse reached across the table and prodded the little box, and Hanzo understood what was happening then. Whatever his face said seemed to give Jesse a little more courage. “I wanna marry you,” he blurted out. “I know what we do. I know our, uh, life expectancy may not be great, but I still want it, and I dreamed about it, and if you want it too that would be… pretty fantastic? Do you?”

Hanzo sucked in a sharp breath, and Jesse would later forgive him for the panic this caused, but he dashed to his desk, dug through until he found his own little box, and practically  _threw it_ at Jesse. “There are two. I didn’t know if… the hand… so I got two.” 

Jesse’s face moved from shock to a beaming smile faster than Hanzo might have expected. “So that’s a yes?”

“Yes. Absolutely, yes.”


	5. Hanahaki Fluff???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [freebooter4ever](https://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com) said: _okay I totally would like to see your take on a quick hanahaki drabble, I know its super popular right now but I can't get enough of the variations of these_
> 
> To which I replied: _Can hanahaki be light-hearted? We’re gonna find out._

Jesse was a wary man by virtue of his lifestyle, but he wasn’t the  _paranoid_  type, and he wasn’t especially risk averse. He knew this about himself. He was comfortable with it, no matter how many lectures it’d earned him from Angie. It didn’t really occur to him to watch out for his health beyond whatever it took to keep doing his job.

But he was reading up on that politician that died while they were in Bangkok, wondering how to spin it as Morricone, and he caught wind of this Hanahaki disease, which led him down an ill-advised clickhole through dubious medical sites. And now every time he had to clear his throat he got a little nervous. He drank so much water that Angie noticed and praised his new habits.

He was fine. He was gonna be  _fine_. He knew better than to take another trip through the web, but he found himself obsessed. He took another foray into self-diagnosis sites. He visited no fewer than seventeen different forums chronicling people’s personal experiences with the disease. He drank so much water Angie told him to cut back, purely for practical purposes; he didn’t need to run missions on a perpetually full bladder.

He drank so much water he choked on it once, sent himself into a brutal wheezing fit right in front of Hanzo, who was so stunned he actually touched Jesse. The rough backpat startled him right out of his fit and right back into another.

“That seemed… unpleasant,” Hanzo said, and Jesse just nodded and breathed through the aftermath. Not a single petal came up, though.

It didn’t seem to matter. His throat clearing had become so obtrusive in meetings that Angie finally pulled him aside to offer him something for his allergies. She also hinted he should cut back on smoking, but he ignored that as always.

Hanzo met him out on the sky bridge, and Jesse cleared his throat. Hanzo gave him a strange, considering look, but that was par for the course. Hanzo lit a cigarette. “You have missed three of our practices recently.”

“Been a little busy,” Jesse said. It wasn’t untrue, exactly, but he didn’t think Hanzo would count compulsively checking Hanahaki support message boards as  _busy_.

“Hn,” was Hanzo’s only reply. Jesse amended his last thought: he had no idea what Hanzo would count as busy, because he didn’t know half of what Hanzo thought about in the first place. Hanzo treated  _mysterious and brooding_  like it was a competition he’d kill to win.

Hanzo coughed himself as a little of Jesse’s smoke flew in his face. He glared a little at Jesse, the funny glare that said he wasn’t thinking of murder so much as a swift kick to somewhere painful, and Jesse worked hard not to think anything at all about what his nose looked like when it wrinkled up like that. He cleared his throat again.

“You have been doing that lately,” Hanzo said and stared him down like he was gonna pick a fight.

“Allergies,” Jesse said instinctively.

“It must be very dusty where you’ve been so  _busy_.”

“Yep,” Jesse answered.

“Hn,” Hanzo said again.

* * *

He finally calmed down a little. He had read everything there was to know by now, probably, and he figured if he wasn’t coughing up anything yet, he wasn’t going to. He figured it meant the crush would go away and he could stop reverting to his teens every time Hanzo showed up.

He made it a whole week without looking at the message boards even once. He was pretty proud of himself. He kept drinking the water; it wasn’t the worst habit he’d ever formed. He went back to practicing with Hanzo, and he managed to squash the urge to clear his throat when he made Hanzo laugh.

God only knew how long he could’ve gone on if that mission didn’t go ass up. He wasn’t even  _on_  the mission, just happened to be with Angie when she got the call to prep the medbay. He chugged half a bottle of water in one go to push down the little trill of panic, and he helped her out.

Genji dragged his brother in, and Hanzo was at least awake, snarling and bristly like a pissed off cat. He was covered in blood, and Jesse had another wheezing fit even as Genji insisted  _most_  of it wasn’t Hanzo’s.

It was “just” a gunshot wound to the leg and a few bruised ribs. Relatively speaking for their line of work, it wasn’t all that bad, and it surely wasn’t a match for Angie’s skills or her tech. Somehow that didn’t stop Jesse from launching into a powerful coughing fit. Genji had to pull him away to give Angie peace to work, and he patted Jesse, probably got blood all over his shirt.

Jesse dragged a hand over his mouth, and that came away bloody too. He felt it, the moment Genji noticed, because Genji’s hand stopped moving.

“Is that—?” Whatever Genji was about to ask was cut off by Jesse’s glare. They both stared at one another, frozen, but when Jesse started to move, Genji moved faster. He grabbed Jesse’s hand, faster than a thought, and his metal fingers pinched Jesse’s skin as he plucked. He held up a little orange petal, and Jesse wheezed again, this time in panic.

“It’s not for you!” Jesse said in a rush. It wasn’t  _the_ dumbest reaction he could have, but it wasn’t the smartest, either.

Genji’s head turned rapidly toward the closed door and back to Jesse. “I sincerely  _hope_ not.” He held the little petal out of Jesse’s reach, which was  _patently_ unfair when Jesse had a good six inches on him. And then Genji fucking  _laughed_. “I don’t know much about flowers, but  _this_  looks familiar.” Jesse knew if Genji’s mask were off, he’d have one eyebrow up and would look uncomfortably like his brother.

“We are never speakin’ about this again,” Jesse said.

“I’m not the one you should speak to, anyway,” Genji said with a shrug.

“You think I should  _say_  somethin’? You want me dead? I thought we were friends, Genji.” 

Genji just shrugged again. “He’s probably drugged up enough that you can get a head start if it goes poorly.” It sounded like he was still fighting a laugh. Jesse wheezed a little, and Genji shook his head. More seriously, he said, “If you let it get to  _this_ , you’re already risking your life. You should try.”

And that was. Well. Not the worst thing Genji could have said.

They had to wait until Angie gave the all-clear, and Genji clearly got dibs on checking on his brother, and  _then_ he practically shoved Jesse into the room and shut the door behind him. Hanzo scowled at him; so much for Jesse’s hope that whatever painkillers Angie’d given him would leave him loopy.

“So. How’s, uh, things?” Jesse asked, and Hanzo leveled a deeply unimpressed stare at him, then gestured at his bandaged leg. “Right. Y’know, this is prob’ly a bad time—”

“I have worked  _very_ hard not to insult you these past few months, but you are testing my self-control. What is it?”

Jesse cleared his throat, and he could  _feel it_ this time, something actually in there, trying to come up. “Fine,” he said, and then he paused, because the words just wouldn’t come out. He cleared his throat again. “I like you.”

Hanzo huffed at him. “You are not intolerable,” he said, then raised an eyebrow at him. “ _Most_ of the time. This is really what you came here to say?”

And it was sorta funny, because Hanzo was  _always_ sorta funny, even when he was being like this. Jesse laughed a little, and he saw Hanzo relax at the same time he did. “No, I  _like_ you. Like, uh, maybe I sometimes think about whether you’d wear that getup if we went on a date.” He’d see how well that went over; he didn’t need to overwhelm him by revealing how much of an understatement “like” was.

Hanzo looked surprised, then  _frustrated_ , and then he started wheezing, too, and maybe it was just surprise or something, but Jesse just  _knew_. Hanzo’s eyes went wide as Jesse got closer, and he saw the little smear of blood on Hanzo’s hand and… something that wasn’t a petal, somehow? Jesse pulled the same trick as Genji, took advantage of Hanzo’s injury to snatch the thing off his hand. It really  _wasn’t_ a petal, was something sharp and thin, like a  _needle_.

Either way, it made him braver than he had been. “Okay, so, uh. You too? Because I gotta admit, maybe  _like_ was an understatement, and maybe I’m already pickin’ out curtains and namin’ our pets and… really, you too?”

As he’d talked, Hanzo had started to look increasingly relieved, until he finally nodded and said, “Me too,” very quietly, as if it took an incredible amount of effort.

So he helped Hanzo clean the blood from his mouth and they talked it out, and Jesse grinned more per minute than he probably had in  _years_ , and with every ounce of willpower he had, he resisted the urge to make the obvious joke about Hanzo coughing up  _literal_ pine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this: Hanzo’s coughing up ponderosa pine, specifically, and Jesse coughed up orange osmanthus.


	6. McCree's painkiller induced pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [bluandorange](https://bluandorange.tumblr.com):
> 
> _McCree gets hyped up on pain meds and Angie has to spend the next day and a half listening to him wax poetic about how much he loves Hanzo and how his HEART is bREAKING because Hanzo will nnnnever love him back ;A; Bonus points if Hanzo actually walks in on this, overhears McCree talking about how great he is and immediately fucks off before McCree realizes he's there_
> 
> Tags: Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Ambiguous/Open Ending

**[AZ]  
** _> Please come deal with him.  
>I’m begging you._

Angela hit send, and she sighed to herself. Fareeha had  _promised_ she would help her keep an eye on Jesse, but she was taking her time. Jesse, meanwhile, was testing every last one of her frazzled nerves. She did love him dearly, but Jesse McCree on powerful pain medication was a pitiful sight to behold. She checked the clock on the wall. It had been four hours now, on top of the day before, and Fareeha had promised to relieve her  _two hours ago_. 

Yesterday, for the first few hours, she had tried to listen with sympathy. But he’d begun to repeat himself and said some things Angela was sure she  _should not_ have heard if she ever wished to look Hanzo in the eye again. Then she’d tried ignoring Jesse, in the hopes he would simply stop, but he spiraled quickly into an achingly sad mood before he slept. She’d had to go back to answering just to prevent him from making them both  _completely_ miserable.

“Angie, you just. You just don’t know,” Jesse started again from his bed.  

“I believe I  _do_ know.” 

“No, you just. His  _face_.” She looked determinedly down at the same paragraph she had read three times. “His fuckin’  _face_ , Angie.”

“Yes, Jesse. You have described it already. Several times. In  _excruciating_ detail.” He had. Really. Angela had not been aware Jesse knew so many adjectives, and she knew the next time she saw Hanzo, she would probably stare at his nose and cheekbones and think of more of those details than she was remotely comfortable with.

“He’s just so gorgeous, Angie.”

“Yes, very handsome.”

“How’s anyone  _look_ like that?”

“I don’t know, Jesse.” She checked her comm; nothing yet.

“And he’s so  _strong.”_

“I have  _less than zero_ interest in hearing about his body again, Jesse.” Her cheeks were pink thinking about the  _last_ time. 

“But his arms–”

“Absolutely not. I am trying to work. Your smutty fantasies are inappropriate and frankly  _disturbing_.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. “’S’not about  _sex,_ Angie.”

She sighed. “I know, Jesse.” She sent another SOS text message, because it was  _pressing_ now. 

Jesse thankfully quieted down for a while, seemed to doze off again, and she got through two entire pages of the article she was reading.

“Angie,” Jesse said. “Angie, what do I  _do_?” 

She cringed and gave up on reading again. This was the worst of it. “You could try  _telling him_  some time,” she suggested. “I recommend ‘Oh, Hanzo, would you like to grab a coffee sometime? Also I tormented my  _very good_ friend, war hero, and accomplished medical professional Angela Ziegler with endless odes to your hair and your apparently  _unparalleled_  talent for  _killing people_. Would you like to hear one?’”

“I do love his hair,” Jesse mumbled.

“Tell  _him_  that.”

“Do you think it feels nice?”

“I have not thought about it  _at all_.” This wasn’t entirely true; she’d thought about it as much as Jesse had talked about it, but she had certainly never arrived at those thoughts independently.

“That’s prob’ly good. I  _love_  him, Angie.” 

“I know, Jesse.” She did now anyway, after – she checked the clock again – sixteen hours off and on. 

“He doesn’t love me.” Angela steeled herself. This was the inevitable part, the one she couldn’t dismiss so easily. “I love him, and he doesn’t love me, and I dunno what to  _do_.” 

“You haven’t tried. You don’t know this for sure.” She was frankly  _confused_ by the appeal at all, if she was being honest. Jesse had explained himself to her thoroughly, but it was difficult to reconcile any of Jesse’s feelings with her own take on Hanzo: he was cold and arrogant, and even if he was not the same man he had been when he tried to kill Genji, he was not a particularly pleasant one to be around. Yet Jesse went on and on about his smile or his laugh – neither of which she had ever witnessed – and she thought, generously, she did not know him the way Jesse did. So she  _tried_ to talk Jesse through it anyway.

“I  _know_  because he’d… he’d say somethin’.”

“Just like you have?” she prodded.

If Jesse was capable of shame in his current state, he didn’t show it. “He  _would_ and he  _hasn’t_ and I don’t even think he notices when I’m flirtin’ with him.”

“You flirt with everyone, Jesse.”

“I’d just ruin it. I  _like_ him, Angie, and he’d just run off and then I wouldn’t even have  _that_.” Jesse’s voice cracked, and Angela flinched, wondered how to redirect him. “‘S’all I think about, all the ways I could  _lose_ him, and he ain’t even mine.” 

Jesse went blessedly quiet after that, and Angela tried not to let herself hurt for him. Her comm dinged.

**[FA]**  
_> So so so so SO sorry. Coffee inbound._

She sighed in relief, and she glanced at the door as if Fareeha would magically appear right then and there. Instead of the clear view she should have, she locked eyes with Hanzo himself. Her breath caught, and she watched his catch too, but he was otherwise as inscrutable as always. He said nothing at all, only turned on his heel and disappeared, left Angela sitting with her mouth open and wondering how long he’d been there.


	7. "Throwing Stones at the Stars" Deleted Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a sort of "deleted scene" from an earlier version of [Throwing Stones at the Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13404681/chapters/30710610), which would have taken place somewhere in what is now chapters 11-12 and ended much the same as chapter 12 currently does. It met a prompt I was given, so I'm sharing it here! I will say that if you are or plan on reading the fic but haven't made it that far, it is at least a little spoiler-y even if it's no longer part of the fic, so be forewarned.
> 
> Prompt from [immawriteyouthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/immawriteyouthings):
> 
>  
> 
> _since I’m weak/can’t resist, if you need another prompt: there’s been a lot of Jesse accidentally admitting feelings (drugged up, in his sleep, etc) but what about Hanzo? Love me some awkward/embarrassed Hanzo._

Another mission came with Jesse at his back. There was no ambush this time, no snipers, only a stupid, painful incident with a massive man who bruised a few of Hanzo’s ribs. Dr. Ziegler was out, so Lúcio confirmed he’d be fine, gave him some painkillers and a playlist and sent him off. Jesse, fool that he was, stuck around, helped Hanzo back to his room when the medicine kicked in and the walls started to spin.

He looped an arm across Hanzo’s back, half dragged him down the hall. “Can you remember your code?” Jesse asked, a funny little smile on his face.

“Yes,” Hanzo said with a scowl. He tried to focus, fingers fumbling on the panel. There was an irritable sounding beep, a light flashing red. Wrong, he thought. He groaned and slumped with his back against the door, trying to drag up the code from the fog.

Jesse stayed close, a hand hovering near his arm in case he slipped. “Y’alright there, partner?” He looked like he might be amused.

“Not at all,” Hanzo said with something dangerously close to a giggle. He missed Jesse’s hands on him. They were warm.

“Christ,” Jesse said, and Hanzo realized he’d voiced some of that aloud, maybe all of it. Jesse looked uncomfortable, practically squirming. “How ‘bout you try that code again? Got the feelin’ you could use a nap.”

Hanzo shook his head, and Jesse’s face looked a little pained. “I don’t want a nap,” he said, and he reached out, pulled until Jesse stumbled right up against him. He sighed at the feeling of Jesse surrounding him, bracketing him against the door with a hand on either side of his head. He wanted him closer, wanted to stay just like this or maybe slide to his knees.

Jesse cursed again, hands prying at Hanzo’s grip on him. “How ‘bout you try that code again instead of babblin’ at me?” His cheeks were red, and Hanzo reached out to touch one. Jesse pulled back as if it stung, and Hanzo wondered if it had, wondered if the touch of Hanzo’s sins was painful. He dropped his hand, suddenly exhausted.

“Will you come in with me?” he asked, and Jesse grunted.

“Someone’s gotta get your dopey ass into bed.” Hanzo giggled at that, and Jesse looked pained again. “Try the code.”

Hanzo turned, leaning on Jesse for support and because he wanted to. He focused, hard, and he got it right this time, heard the door unlatch. Jesse guided him in and said nothing about the way Hanzo grabbed at him until Hanzo was seated at the edge of the bed. He tried pulling Jesse, but Jesse wouldn’t budge, though he did let out a frustrated little laugh at Hanzo’s face. “You’re a grown man, get a grip,” Jesse said.

“Don’t leave again,” Hanzo said back, and Jesse froze at that, stopped fighting him for a moment.

“You need to sleep,” Jesse said after a minute, then gingerly pushed at Hanzo’s hands. He was oddly gentle, didn’t use all his strength, but a brief throb of dull pain reminded Hanzo of his ribs. Jesse wasn’t going to fight hard enough to hurt him.

Hanzo pulled at Jesse’s shirt, even though he could feel, dimly, the way it pulled on his ribs. “Stay,” he said. He tilted his face up, realized how close Jesse’s was. He could see the little gold flecks in his brown eyes; they were pretty, reminded him of the stones Genji had collected when they were children. Everything else swam a little, but Jesse’s eyes stayed in focus. Hanzo tried to close the distance between them, and Jesse jerked back so fast it pulled on Hanzo’s ribs again. “You look at me like that, but you won’t stay,” he said, angry now.

Jesse met his eye again, made a strangled sound. Then he looked back down at where he was working to untangle Hanzo’s hands from his shirt. “High as a fuckin’ kite,” he muttered. “How ‘bout I stay til you fall asleep? Not here,” he added quickly as Hanzo started to pull at him. “Over there on the couch. But I’ll be here, alright?” Hanzo’s grip loosened as he thought it over, and Jesse wriggled free, moved quickly to put some distance between them. “Hands to yourself,” he said, and he worked quickly to yank Hanzo’s boots off, to wrestle him under the covers.

But he sat on the couch, like he’d promised. “You stay put,” he said, wagged a finger like Hanzo was a disobedient child. “Get your beauty rest.”

Hanzo pouted a little, but he did as he was told and burrowed into the sheets. They felt good against his face, so soft. He’d always thought they were stiff but right now they felt wonderful. The room spun a little when he looked again to check that Jesse was still on the little loveseat.

“‘M still here. Not goin’ anywhere til I’m sure you’re asleep.” Hanzo closed his eyes then, rubbed his face against the sheets. “If you remember any of this tomorrow, we’re gonna have a hell of a conversation.”

Hanzo didn’t dream at all. He woke to the feeling of a full bladder and an ache in his ribs, mouth dry as a bone. He stumbled to the toilet and took a look at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. Despite the tangles in his hair, he looked surprisingly good. Well rested for once. It felt incredible to brush his teeth, though it pulled at his side, mint and water doing wonders for his raw, dry mouth. He found a glass of water and a bottle of pills on the bedside table, and that’s when he remembered, in short, blurry snatches, that Jesse had helped him to his room. He drank the water but left the pills alone with the vague sense that he’d said or done something embarrassing. He tried not to linger on it, but more brief flashes came in little bursts as he showered and dressed, left his face feeling hot.

The pills tempted him; at least they might wipe out his humiliating memories. But he risked doing something else embarrassing with them. He decided he would rather accept the pain.

His stomach let him know his next priority, and a quick glance at his phone told him it was near lunchtime, albeit a little early. He wondered if he could eat alone if he went now. Luck was with him; the only person in the dining room was Lúcio, who politely asked after his recovery. Hanzo fought down a blush as he asked if there were some other medicine with less undesirable side effects.

Hanzo reheated a soup he and Hana had made a few days ago, but his luck ended there. Jesse entered the kitchen as Hanzo finished setting a kettle on for some tea, and he looked both surprised and suddenly deeply uncomfortable to find him. Still, Jesse had always been stupidly brave. “How you, uh, holdin’ up?”

“Fine,” Hanzo answered, and he turned his back to wash his bowl, grateful for the excuse to look away.

“Good,” Jesse said. “That’s good.” Hanzo could practically feel him fidgeting behind him. “You got a minute?”

Hanzo felt the blush creep up the back of his neck. “No.”

“Really?” Jesse asked. “Looks like you gotta wait for your tea.”

Hanzo scowled at the dishes in his hands as he wiped them dry. It was true, though. If he left now, Jesse would know without question that something was wrong, that Hanzo remembered. “I do,” he admitted, then turned to Jesse, arms crossed. “What did you want?”

“Just to talk. See if you were feelin’ alright.” He looked awkward, and he moved past Hanzo to the coffee pot, turned his nervous energy to that task instead. “You still on those pills?” he asked with his back to Hanzo.

“No,” he said, didn’t elaborate.

“Prob’ly a good idea,” Jesse said, laughing a little as he scooped coffee into a filter. He looked at Hanzo again, seemed to brace himself. Hanzo reminded himself to breathe. “You were real out of it. Kinda funny now.”

Hanzo felt the blush returning, and he looked at the kettle, willing the water to heat faster. “I don’t often use medication.”

“No shit,” Jesse said with a snort. “One little pill had you on your ass.” The coffee maker started to chortle away, and the kitchen filled with the smell of it. “You remember anything?”

Hanzo was saved for a few more seconds when the kettle began to whistle, and he pulled it off the heat, let it rest for a moment. “No,” he lied easily. He busied himself preparing the tea, but Jesse didn’t seem put off.

Jesse even laughed a little. Hanzo tensed. “Y’know, you have this little muscle around your jaw that twitches when you’re lyin’ or tryin’ to hide something.” Hanzo looked at him sharply then, and he didn’t know how Jesse suddenly looked so relaxed when Hanzo was wound so tight. “Always have.” Hanzo felt his whole spine go rigid. Jesse never brought up the past, hadn’t done so since he’d recruited him weeks ago. “Don’t know how you got by so long with a tell like that.”

Hanzo scowled back at his tea, tempted to leave then and there. But now his curiosity and irritation had the better of him. “Did you come to mock me, then?”

“Of course not.” Jesse said it like what he wanted was obvious. “Just wonderin’ how much was you talkin’ and how much was the drugs.”

He had known the question was coming, but it still struck him that he didn’t know the answer either. “Don’t read into it,” he said after a moment, and he heard Jesse huff a little.


	8. McCree keeps to himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [aerihead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriiin) asked:
> 
> _hi hi! i see you're taking quick drabble ideas, so i thought i'd send on in! Idea: instead of hanzo keeping to himself after the recall, its jesse who doesn't seem to interact much with the team, and hanzo goes to investigate on behalf of genji and the others who worry but dont know how to bring it up?_
> 
> Tags: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are now two really beautiful pieces of art to accompany this by [mianewarcher](https://mianewarcher.tumblr.com) that are linked in story.

Everyone told him McCree was “a real charmer,” was the sort of laid back friendly who could get along with anybody. Genji had said as much, told Hanzo they were friends, that McCree made him  _laugh_  even when he’d had little else to laugh about. 

The man Hanzo met was absolutely none of these things, as far as he could tell. He lingered on the outskirts of every conversation, wary and weary. He smiled sometimes when addressed, but it was tight and tense, and it never reached his eyes. He fought with a recklessness that some might have thought heroic; he put himself between his teammates and a bullet time and time again. Others thought him cocky or self-sacrificing, but Hanzo saw a man on another kind of mission entirely.

Hanzo did not know him, but he  _knew_ him. There was a man like McCree in the mirror every morning. 

Genji was worried, and that was enough for Hanzo to have had enough. He rapped sharply on McCree’s door, continued until his knuckles began to ache, until McCree flung it open as he snapped, “What?” His glare seemed to falter when he registered Hanzo on the other side; it wasn’t as if Hanzo had sought him out before.

Hanzo eyed him up and down. [He had the arm off and stood bare-chested in his sweatpants. Some other time, Hanzo might have appreciated it, but McCree was a mess, hair sticking out from his head and beard like he’d scrubbed his hand through both.](https://miasmchanzocomics.tumblr.com/post/172980760870) “I came to offer you a drink, but I see you’ve already begun.” It was hard to say if it was surprise or the offer that did it, but McCree let him in, dug through a basket of clothes to pull a t-shirt over his head. 

They didn’t talk about much the first time. The second time, Hanzo called McCree reckless, and McCree laughed, cold and hard, but he didn’t deny it. The third time, Hanzo called him pitiful, and McCree got angry, picked a fight over it that ended just as fast. The fourth time, Hanzo called him selfish, and McCree looked at him with surprise. The fifth time, Hanzo called him self-loathing, and McCree muttered about pots and kettles with a wry grin on his face. 

Hanzo lost count after that, but slowly he watched McCree shake the dark weight off, watched him smile for his teammates and charm them. He watched McCree move from the edges back to the center of attention. He watched him make Genji laugh again.

He didn’t seem to need Hanzo’s intervention any longer, but McCree still sought him out. Hanzo had lost count of how many times he went to McCree’s room for a drink, but he wouldn’t forget the first time McCree came to his. [The first time, McCree stood in the doorway with his heart on his sleeve, and Hanzo dragged him past the threshold with a smile.](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/miasmchanzocomics/173011456425)


	9. Thunderstorms + Lullabies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [youraveragejoke](http://youraveragejoke.tumblr.com/): 
> 
>  
> 
> _Mama McCree comforting Jesse during a thunder storm? I've got Mama McCree feelings right now.._

The whole house seems to shake with it, lights up his room in a flash of blinding blue. The room fills with shadow creatures in the light, then plunges into a terrifying darkness. The sound and the light and the shapes and the dark are all a part of his nightmares, but he’s awake this time. 

He cries out, and then she’s there, pressing Wyatt into his arms. He buries his face in his bear, and his mama strokes his hair. “ _Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi sol,_ ” she sings, just like she has all six years of his life. She’s quiet, drowned out by huge peals of thunder, but she keeps singing, and her voice sounds like church bells. “ _Arrorró pedazo, de mi corazón._ ”

He’s too old for lullabies now, but he doesn’t tell her that, because her voice gives him something else to think about. He squeezes his eyes closed against the lights and darks of the storm, and his mama tucks the blanket up around him and Wyatt. His breath hitches when it sounds like she’s going to leave. But she doesn’t leave; she curls into the bed and pulls him and his bear close, pets fingers over his brow and hums her song until he’s asleep.

* * *

Jesse’s not afraid of thunderstorms any more. Any lingering fears he had got washed away now that he knows Hanzo’s most at home in a storm. It’s hard to be afraid of wind and rain when it’s saved his life a few times over. Or maybe he still fears it, but not in a way that makes him want to hide; it’s just not the same when there’s lightning and thunder living inside the man Jesse’s reasonably certain’s the love of his life.

It’s a storm that rages around him now as he digs through the rubble following an attack. It’s washed out the fires and weighed down the dust, but there are things the storm can’t do. He saw them, and he’s gonna find them if it’s the last thing he does. He shoves his way through the debris and into the little house on the outskirts of the destruction, and he’s growling into his comm the whole time.

He finds them though, cowering inside the house: two kids, neither older than five, and nearby a woman who’s down, clearly taken a blow to the head. He checks on her, and she’s breathing but out of it. He snaps into his comm again, and he approaches the kids like they’re gonna startle like wild deer. 

He’s never been good with children, never really wanted any for himself. But the house lights up with a flash of lightning and goes horribly dark again, and his heart breaks a little. He doesn’t know much about what to do, but his memories get him through it. He doesn’t know their language, but he knows the song and he hopes it’s good enough.

Here’s how Hanzo finds him: seated next to an unconscious woman, a little girl on one arm and a little boy with his bear in Jesse’s lap. Both of the kids are asleep, and Jesse’s still humming the old lullaby. He looks up to see Hanzo, and Hanzo stares back with a beautiful, stupid expression that even Jesse can see is utterly smitten. 


	10. Hanzo playing Tekken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [mataglap](https://mataglap.tumblr.com): _Hanzo playing Tekken! Opponent of your choice._

Jesse takes a deep, calming breath, and he forces his fingers to relax enough that he can release the controller from his grip, which is probably for the best, as Hana might kill him if he broke it.

“Giving up already?” Genji cackles.

“You promised a game of skill,” he says. “Where’s the fun in just mashin’ buttons?” He slumps back on the couch. At least with his hands free, he can get back to nursing his beer, even if the defeat stings.

Genji snorts at him, then his head jerks a little, gaze fixed just past Jesse’s shoulder. “A challenger approaches!” he crows. “Want a turn?”

Hanzo plucks up Jesse’s discarded controller and sinks onto the couch next to him. Their knees brush, and Jesse blames the alcohol for how much he enjoys it. Hanzo gives him a sideways look and a smirk. “Don’t worry. I will avenge you.”

Hanzo makes it look like the game of skill Genji promised, and Jesse’s torn between admiration for them both and a need to tend to his bruised ego. Either way, Hanzo’s knee is still pressed against his, and he can feel the little twitches in Hanzo’s body as he tenses and releases, not quite capable of being totally still while he plays. When he beats Genji the first time, Genji demands they play the best two out of three, then three out of five, and they’re up to  _best six out of ten_  when Hanzo finally declares that he’s bored with handing Genji his ass. He sets the controller down, and Genji concedes by grabbing his brother a drink. 

Hana tries to challenge Hanzo next, but he puts his hands up. “A good warrior knows how to recognize a superior. Perhaps next time,” he says with a laugh, and it seems to satisfy her. She and Genji instead put in some other old game, another that Jesse has never heard of.

“Thanks for curbin’ his ego,” Jesse says after a moment, and Hanzo glances at him, graces him with a rare full-blown smile. 

“Someone should. Besides, it was unsporting of him to brag about beating an unskilled opponent.” He says it with a teasing grin, eyes glittering, right before he takes another drink.

Jesse gets the little kick to the gut that tells him when someone’s flirting, and it catches him off guard, makes something warm unfold in his chest that feels like  _possibility_. “I got skills,” he protests, grinning right back. “Poker takes skill. We should do that for the next game night.”

“I don’t doubt you would do well,” Hanzo says, still sporting a smirk. He watches Jesse take another sip of his beer. “Although I would not want my brother around for the variant I’d like to play.” 

It takes him a second to pick up what Hanzo actually said, and by the time he does, he’s got a mouthful of beer that takes an inhuman amount of effort not to send absolutely everywhere. None of it escapes, but he does end up wheezing. It is not one of his finest moments, but Hanzo’s still got a thigh pressed against his, is still laughing and watching Jesse like he’s the only other person in the room, and Jesse figures his pride can take more than a few hits if he can keep this up.


	11. Strip Poker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [mataglap](https://mataglap.tumblr.com) told me after the Tekken drabble that I'd clearly set myself up for a sequel involving strip poker. They were not wrong, so I obliged.

It’s stupid, he knows. Hanzo probably knows it too. But they’re both just tipsy enough that “it seemed like a good idea at the time” sounds like it’ll be a good excuse in the morning. 

Jesse eyes Hanzo’s pair of twos and laughs, flips his cards so Hanzo can see his full house. He pulls in the stack of chips they’re pretending to bet with, and he leans back in his seat to watch Hanzo decide what to take off next. Hanzo’s already down his shoes, socks, belt and jacket. 

“Could go for the hair tie,” Jesse suggests helpfully. In truth, he’s curious to know what Hanzo would look like with it down.

“That’s the coward’s way out,” Hanzo shoots back, sending a pointed look at Jesse’s discarded hat. It’s the only thing Jesse’s taken off so far, and Hanzo’s clearly starting to get bitter about it. Jesse’s considered letting him win a round or two, but this is more fun.

“Didn’t know we were pickin’ and choosin’ what the other took off.” Jesse grins into his beer as Hanzo finally makes up his mind, pulls his t-shirt up and off too quickly to be  _trying_ to make Jesse’s heart beat a little faster, but it picks up the pace anyway. 

Hanzo shuffles and deals, they make a couple token bets as the cards come down, although neither bothers to raise real high, and Hanzo finally wins his second hand, three of a kind to Jesse’s two pairs. Jesse works off his boots with a shrug. Hanzo’s gloating a little over his win, so Jesse can’t help but prod him a little: “Don’t get used to it.”

Hanzo snorts. “I was beginning to think you were cheating.”

“Nah, just lucky,” Jesse says with a wink that makes Hanzo laugh a little. Jesse deals the next hand, gets a mismatched two and seven, and the flop doesn’t promise anything helpful, so he folds off the bat just like he would if there were real money at stake. Hanzo watches, entirely unimpressed, as Jesse pulls his socks off with a laugh. “It was a shit hand! Figured I could afford to be charitable.”

Hanzo rolls his eyes again, shuffles and deals. Jesse’s luck is back though, because Hanzo loses again, can’t even make a hand this time. He stands and for a brief, panicked moment, Jesse thinks he’s gonna leave. Instead, Hanzo’s hands start to work on the fly of his jeans, and Jesse doesn’t have it in him to politely pretend he’s not watching.

Hanzo holds his gaze, mouth twisted in a little smirk, and he moves a lot slower this time. Jesse  _was_  gonna say something cute again, but the words get stuck in his throat at the sound of Hanzo’s zipper parting, tooth by tooth. Jesse’s so focused he can hear it like it’s echoing, and he’s not sure he’s ever swung from playful flirting to speechless and sweating quite so fast. Hanzo drags his jeans down and steps out of them, gives them a little kick to send them to the side. 

“Come here,” Jesse says, entirely without meaning to.

“You haven’t won yet,” Hanzo says, still smirking.

“Already feel like I did.” He’s aiming for smooth but missing a little, but it doesn’t seem to put Hanzo off any.

“Our game isn’t finished.”

“You won, then. I concede.” Hanzo laughs at that, and it braces Jesse somehow, makes him grin again and give him a wink. “Come collect your prize.”

Hanzo snorts, clearly thinks he’s a little ridiculous right now – and with the way it feels like his tongue wants to stick to the roof of his mouth, Jesse can’t really fault him for thinking it – but he moves closer anyway. He leans over Jesse, braces himself with his knee between Jesse’s thighs and his hand on the back of the chair. Hanzo watches his face closely, works slowly at the buttons of Jesse’s shirt with one hand, and Jesse just sits with his hands clutching the arms of the chair for a moment.

They make it through the first three buttons before both of them move again, Jesse tipping his head up just right as Hanzo’s mouth comes down to meet him. It’s mostly a blur after that, Hanzo a solid weight in his lap at first, followed by the disappointing realization that neither the chair nor Jesse’s cheap folding card table is meant to bear the weight of two full grown men. Lessons learned, they eventually make it to the bed, where Jesse makes sure to spend at least as much time mapping Hanzo’s skin with his mouth as they did playing the game.


	12. "Don't make me take this shot"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [operativesurprise](https://operativesurprise.tumblr.com): _Prompt: "please, please don't do this. You know there's another option. Don't make me take this shot,"_
> 
> To which I responded: _Is this what you asked for? Probably not. But it’s all my brain would allow. McHanzo-ish. Rated G for goofy._
> 
> Tags: Alcohol, Drinking Games?

“Please, please don’t do this,” Jesse practically sobs. “You know there’s another option. Don’t make me take this shot.”

Hanzo stares back, a challenging sneer on his face. “You know what you have to do then.”

Jesse thinks about his options and decides  _no_ , he really can’t. The alternative is unthinkable; the alternative is  _defeat_. He holds Hanzo’s gaze for a moment longer, then he squeezes his eyes shut and throws back the little half shot of chili oil.

It doesn’t even hit right away – there’s a half second’s lag between it hitting his tongue and his brain figuring it out – but when it does, he feels his whole  _face_ go hot, right along with his tongue, lips and the roof of his mouth. It tastes terrible in that quantity, and it outright  _hurts_. He gasps, wheezes a little, knows he’s already sweating, and Hanzo and Genji laugh so hard they’re both leaning half on the table, half on each other. Lena’s next to him with a hand on his shoulder, hiccuping out helpless giggles, and Fareeha’s near doubled over by the sink, practically wheezing, herself.

Jesse claws for his beer and chugs. It doesn’t help, not really – he can feel the spice creeping down his throat with it – but he figures getting drunker might numb the pain. 

“Your  _face_ ,” Lena gasps. “Oh my  _god_ , your face.”

Jesse scowls at her, but the effect is a little lost when he’s still trying to breathe through his mouth to cool it down. Fareeha hands him another beer as if to apologize for the pain. “You,” he says, pointing right at Hanzo. “You are an  _asshole_. You’re doin’ my dare next.”

“Oh no, I concede. You’ve won this one,” says Hanzo, still laughing.

“It’s true,” Genji says. “I don’t wish to try to top your bravery–”

“Or stupidity.” That comes from Genji and Fareeha  _both_. 

“Fuck all of y’all,” Jesse grumbles, but he can’t quite stop the laugh from escaping to give him away.

Several beers later and he’s on the couch, sprawled out and ready to sleep, and Hanzo won’t stop pulling at him. “You’re  _mean_ , I’m done puttin’ up with you,” Jesse mutters and throws an arm across his eyes. 

Hanzo just laughs and pulls on his arm. “You took the dare! If I were truly mean to you, I’d leave you here and let your back suffer in the morning.”

He sounds too damn sober, and it makes Jesse huff grouchily, but there’s a logic hiding in there somewhere that he can’t bring himself to argue with. He lets Hanzo drag him up on wobbly legs, and Hanzo coos at him through his laughter, tells Jesse how very  _brave and foolish_ he is. Jesse knows he’s being teased, but he’s a little too tired to fight back, especially when Hanzo reminds him of this other thing, this new thing, when he asks, “Your room or mine?”


	13. NSFW: Love is not biology (an ABO drabble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take on A/B/O dynamics. M-rated/NSFW.

Love is not biology. It’s not anatomy or chemistry or anything science can measure. It lives in the body, but there’s more to it than that. Sometimes biology fools you, makes a fool  _of_  you, but it isn’t the same as love.

Hanzo knows this. It’s even there in the back of his mind over the course of their week together, peeping out of the fog of overheated skin and sweat and pheromones so strong he can  _taste_  them in the air. Those are potent, dizzying, but they aren’t love.

Love is in the taste of salt and copper in his mouth when he bites his own tongue; his teeth ache to sink into flesh but that’s more than they discussed. It’s only basic decency in the end, but becoming  _basically decent_ has taken enough work that he allows himself to feel accomplished. Love might also be the unbroken skin on his own neck, the way his chest expands with hope that Jesse’s reasons are the same.

It’s biology that makes saliva flood his mouth at the way Jesse smells, but it’s love that has him watching Jesse’s hands and counting seconds and estimating color preferences so Hanzo can pour him his coffee, cream and sugar measured out just how he likes. Love might also be Jesse with a kitchen timer and thermometer, doing his best to brew a perfect cup of tea.

Love isn’t biology. It’s a thousand choices and actions, strung together and committed over and over and over, some of them thoughtless and some of them painful. It’s Jesse gathering his arrows on the battlefield, presented back to him like a bouquet. It’s Jesse rushing to aid not Hanzo but Genji, because they are friends and also, perhaps, because he fears Hanzo will die when Genji does. It’s Jesse offering a drink and kind, cautious words when the sight of Genji’s injuries is too much for Hanzo again.

Maybe it’s also that Hanzo finally chooses to see these actions for what they are, to trust his own eyes and Jesse’s actions and his words. It is another choice, and one he doesn’t feel worthy of making, but Jesse has decided him worthy and perhaps he can choose to trust that when he can’t trust himself.

Biology demands that his teeth finally get what they crave; it calls for blood and sweat and come, for fever and frenzy and bruising, grasping fingers. It makes its demands three weeks out of the year, and it is exhilarating, dizzying madness.

For all fifty-two weeks, the choices and actions remain. Every morning, Hanzo chooses coffee and bouquets of arrows and a partner in the field. He chooses to learn how to recognize when Deadeye has taken too great a toll, how to know what to do about it. He chooses his words carefully when he must. He chooses to make Jesse laugh and listen when it is time. Every morning, he makes the often boring and sometimes terrifying choice to love and let himself be loved.


	14. "I couldn't let them take you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A while back, [mataglap](https://mataglap.tumblr.com) posted a [Contrarian Fluff Meme](https://mataglap.tumblr.com/post/173746668236/contrarian-fluff-meme), and an anon prompted me with this:
> 
> _Are you still doing the angst inverts? If so, I have one for mchanzo; "I had no choice, I couldn't let them take /you/"_

In the safehouse, Hanzo counted the arrows he had left, deft fingers inspecting each to ensure they remained in good enough condition should trouble come to call. The mission was finished, but it wasn’t trulyover until Lena arrived to pull them back out. Besides, it was good distraction from the irritation still crawling under his skin.

There was some commotion from the other room, his fellow agents thumping about and talking quietly, words indistinguishable through the walls. Hanzo straightened as Jesse entered, absent his serape and carrying a box under one arm.

“What kept you?” Hanzo asked, worked to keep his voice low and the gruffness to a minimum.

Jesse grinned, one side of his mouth tipped higher than the other. It was exactly the smile that got him either into or out of trouble, depending on the recipient’s mood; Hanzo grit his teeth in response. “Worryin’ about me?” 

“No,” he said reflexively, still feeling the simmering remnants of his anger. They had argued before the mission. It seemed stupid now, irritation brought on by too much time together with too little to do, a tiny thing in comparison to the mission and the stakes; their arguments always seemed smaller, pettier after a mission. Hanzo made himself take a breath, then he let it out forcefully. “Yes.” He glanced at Jesse, then at the box. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Jesse looked a little cagey, looked like he was trying to figure out how Hanzo was going to react before he answered, and the anticipation only made it more difficult to remain calm. Then the lid on the box moved of its own accord, and Jesse smiled again like he couldn’t quite help himself. “I, uh, mighta picked up a souvenir?” 

Hanzo stared at the box, which he only now realized had  _several_ holes peppering the cardboard, almost like Jesse – or someone – had taken a knife to it. “Some of the folks we helped evac, they had a bunch of these. They were gonna take ’em along, but they offered me one.” The lid of the box moved again, and Jesse finally gave in, sat on the bed and pulled the lid off entirely. Hanzo couldn’t stop himself from drawing closer as a kitten’s fluffy gray head poked up. Jesse curled a finger under its chin; Hanzo could hear the purr from where he stood. 

“This little girl really took a shine to me.” Jesse’s face went soft, all the lines and harsh edges suddenly smoothed out as he looked at her, and he pulled her free from the box and into his lap, serape carefully bundled under her fluffy body. “I had no choice. I couldn’t let them take  _you_ ,” he cooed at her, pet a hand carefully down her back. Her purring only grew louder, and she stuck her tiny butt in the air for Jesse to scratch; he happily obliged, laughing softly. Then he looked back up at Hanzo, eyes impossibly huge. “That okay with you?” he asked quietly.

Hanzo caved immediately, the argument and lingering irritation forgotten for the sake of  _this_. He sat on the bed beside Jesse, their thighs pressed warm together, and Jesse handed her over. She purred just as loudly for Hanzo, seemingly indiscriminate as long as she was being pet. “We need to make a list of everything she needs,” Hanzo said. “And figure out a name.” Jesse grinned and leaned his weight into Hanzo’s shoulder, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

He probably should have been embarrassed by being so easily won over, but it was hard to care in the moment.


	15. McCree in Hanzo's lap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the 76 Kisses Meme on Tumblr, [lurkingminx](https://lurkingminx.tumblr.com) and [werekem](https://werekem.tumblr.com) requested 74: Kisses Where One Person is Sitting in the Other's Lap

They all had their bad habits when there was too much downtime, but Jesse had lately taken it upon himself to keep Hanzo from his.

“I can’t see through you,” Hanzo grumbled. 

Jesse laughed and settled his weight down a little more, thighs spread to either side of Hanzo’s. “That was the point, darlin’. Too much news’ll rot your brain.”

Hanzo huffed, but he pushed forward, curled his arms around Jesse and pressed his forehead to Jesse’s shoulder. “I am trying to stay informed.” He sounded like he might have been pouting, but his arms pressed tighter around Jesse, tugged him in a little more snugly.

“You’re a responsible global citizen, sweetheart,” Jesse told him with a grin. “Here, I’ll summarize: most of the politicians are shit, some are doin’ some good stuff but are gettin’ fucked with by the ones that’re shit, something’s on fire somewhere and somethin’ else is under water. There still ain’t any news on any of our targets, just like there wasn’t an hour ago or the hour before that, and you weren’t gonna see anything about ’em on public channels anyway.” Hanzo let out a long, irritable sigh, and Jesse did the only appropriate thing, which was to laugh at him again. “And you have a lapful of prime American beef” — Hanzo snorted into his shirt — “that you’ve been ignorin’ so you could drive yourself crazy instead.”

Hanzo made a grumpy noise, but it was muffled against Jesse’s chest. Jesse ran a hand over the back of Hanzo’s neck, gave a gentle squeeze, and Hanzo breathed in and out deliberately, heat seeping through Jesse’s shirt. “You smell good,” Hanzo announced after a moment, and just like that, Jesse knew he’d won.

Hanzo let him go with one arm, fumbling blindly for the remote so he could turn the holoscreen set off, then he finally pulled back just enough to look at Jesse. Hanzo still had a little wrinkle between his brows, mouth turned down in that not-quite-pout, but at least he wasn’t wallowing in bad news any more.

Jesse stroked his thumb over one corner of Hanzo’s mouth, and it twitched, started to curl slowly into something a little friendlier. It seemed only reasonable to kiss him then too. It was meant to be quick and light, but by the way Hanzo’s mouth opened under his, by the way he sank into the cushions at the back of the couch and pulled Jesse right along with him, Hanzo clearly had other plans. Jesse was more than happy to oblige.


	16. A hoarse whisper: "Kiss me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the 76 Kisses Meme on Tumblr, [liann](https://liann.tumblr.com) requested 68: A Hoarse Whisper: "Kiss Me"

Jesse was, for lack of a better word, a complete and utter  _weenie_.

Hanzo could and  _should_ be forgiven for the poor vocabulary. He had been awake for the better part of forty-eight hours, and had anyone other than Jesse been around to witness it, they also should have praised him for his saintlike patience. 

It took two long,  _disgusting_ days to actually convince Jesse he was sick, but now that Jesse had accepted his reality, he was a uniquely pathetic pain in the ass. It seemed Jesse could outlive omnics, assassins and former gang members, could take a bullet or a broken bone with a stoicism that bordered on delusion, but the common cold rendered him helpless.

“Darlin’,” Jesse said in a pathetically small, wheezy voice.  _Practically a child,_ Hanzo thought as he grit his teeth. It was impossible to say by now how much of Jesse’s current behavior was the result of his cold or the cough syrup, or if he was only really interested in fucking with Hanzo. 

Hanzo made himself take a steadying breath. He had only  _just_ sat down. “Yes, my love? Light of my life?” If he showed too many teeth while he spoke, he assumed Jesse  _off_ the cough syrup could forgive him. 

“My glass is empty and I’m  _so thirsty_.” Jesse looked at him, a little glassy-eyed, and he pouted. Hanzo had quickly grown immune to both the sympathy it was intended to cultivate and the secondhand embarrassment at watching a man approaching forty behave like a toddler. Not for the first time, he wondered if killing Jesse in this context would be considered justifiable homicide. “Would you mind?” 

Hanzo said nothing at all, but he got to his feet and snatched the glass from the side table. “Anything else while I’m up? I am not doing this  _again_.” Jesse shook his head and went back to watching the holo screen. Hanzo filled the glass and brought it back, set it beside Jesse. “Are you  _absolutely sure_ you don’t need anything else?”

Jesse coughed, less sad this time and more disgusting. He also needed to blow his nose again. “You could kiss me,” he said wryly when the fit was over, voice hoarse and scratchy and barely audible.

Hanzo stared down at him, with his watery eyes and red, runny nose and chapped lips, and he wrinkled his nose at him. He thought about what an outrageous pain Jesse had been, how whiny, how infuriating, and he bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead anyway.

“Move over,” Hanzo said, and Jesse barely made room at all. “If you hog the blankets again, I will cut off your good hand.” Hanzo ended up curled more on top of him than next to him, drawing the covers over both of them and resigning himself to watching  _yet another_ marathon of old Westerns. 


	17. Exhausted Parents Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the 76 Kisses Meme on Tumblr, anonymous requested 23. Exhausted Parents Kiss.

Jesse flopped facedown onto the bed and brought a pruny hand up to pat Hanzo’s thigh. “Bathtime: accomplished,” he groaned. “Jiro’s readin’ to her.” He rolled onto his back and stretched, felt his back and especially his knees try and fail to pop. “What’s on the docket for tomorrow?”

Hanzo tilted his tablet down for Jesse to see the schedule. “I get Gabby from daycare and we go right to Amal’s soccer practice. You get the boys.”

“We’ll handle dinner. Toshi’s got that recital Saturday too. Can you put ‘practice’ on the schedule so I don’t forget?” Hanzo nodded and tapped it out quickly, dragged the little green box between ‘homework’ and ‘dinner’. Just looking at the schedule right then made Jesse’s eyes hurt. “Why’d we do this to ourselves?” he asked.

Hanzo shrugged. “I don’t know. It was your idea.”

“I  _distinctly_ remember you–” Jesse started, but Hanzo cut him off with a tired laugh and a kiss. It was sweet, chaste, then Jesse pulled the tablet from his hands and set it on the bedside table, and he proceeded to make it as  _un_ chaste as possible. 

They both sprang apart at the creak of the door. “Daddy, Papa,” came a tiny voice. “I can’t sleep.” Gabby didn’t even ask for permission, just crawled right in. Hanzo shot him a brief glare–the universal parental signal for  _you should have locked the door_ –before he moved back to give Gabby and her bear more space. 

She curled in between them, wedged tight against Hanzo’s chest with her tiny feet jammed into Jesse’s hip. Jesse rolled over with a sigh and grabbed the tablet, and as her feet started to wander over his spine as she settled in, he considered that Hanzo got the better end of this deal. Before he turned off the lamp, he grabbed the tablet and made sure to add ‘get babysitter for Friday night’ to tomorrow’s to-do list.


End file.
